


Mutter

by NikoNotHere



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Beginnings, Body Image, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Mutter Era, Oral Sex, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere
Summary: Richard and Till have a mutual attraction that is quite obvious, but a secret threatens the beginnings of their "relationship."
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider | Doom, Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Mutter

Richard could feel Till’s eyes on him. He always could, as he was a person of normal awareness and Till stared at him with some frequency. But, he also is known to stare at everyone else in the band too. Flake, when he begins to purposefully and loudly start shit in bars while drunk; Oli, when he sits on the couch and plucks at his acoustic guitar with his eyes closed, lost in the music; Paul, when he insists on playing the same American movie over and over on the only tv in the bus; Schneider, when he improvises drumsticks out of anything handy and irritates everyone in earshot…

And himself, Richard supposed, but he never seemed to be doing anything noteworthy when he caught his bandmate's stares. Tuning his guitar, washing his face, he even saw Till staring at him across the bus once as they watched some terrible American movie (that Richard absolutely loved and had seen 10 times already). Anytime Richard gave a questioning glance in return, Till looked like he was waking up somehow, and would turn his attention back to whatever else was going on. 

It was weird, and it was getting to Richard. Not because of anything major, of course. He just had some mild concerns about what fooling around with one of his bandmates might mean. That didn’t stop everyone else in the band from doing just that, almost on a nightly basis, even. If they didn’t bring someone from their shows back, they’d either fuck one another or watch. Schneider and Paul were the worst. Richard half wondered if they were actually dating one another. Regardless, it still worried him. He wasn’t like everyone else, and had a lot more to lose if something went sour.

With that irksome reality pricking his mind again, Richard stood up from the couch on the bus where he and Oli had been lounging. He needed to walk and clear his head. Maybe he could wrangle Flake and force him to come along for company. Everyone was getting a little stir crazy this close to the end of their 2nd US tour for Sehnsucht and relished opportunities to get out and stretch their legs. Flake of course power walked everywhere anyway, so Richard had some doubts about whether he could catch him still hanging around the bus.

A quick look outside revealed no Flake, and no one else, either, it seemed. Oli was still inside, and not his favorite choice when it came to walking partners. He was too quiet. Richard needed a talker. 

Just then, Till rounded the corner of the bus with half a burger in his hand, the other half in his mouth judging by the size of the man’s bulging cheeks.

“How do you feel about a walk?” Richard offered. 

Till tried valiantly to hurriedly chew and swallow the massive bite he’d taken, but instead ended up coughing for a full minute as he choked and beat himself in the chest with a fist to dislodge it. Richard simply watched and smiled, amused. After a minute, Till managed to get the offending piece of burger down and gasped for air. He gave a thumbs up with one hand while he bent in half and held himself up with his other hand on his knee.

“Sure,” he rasped. 

After double checking that Till wasn’t actually suffocating, Richard clapped him on the back and started walking. Neither had any real idea where they were going, but the weather was pleasant, and their conversation was surprisingly good. Lately their talks had been only surface-level chats, about music or women or Richard’s clothes-- as Till had a fascination with teasing him about them. But this time, they talked deeply about both their dreams and fears, and now were edging into religious territory.

Till toed at the concrete sidewalk before speaking again quietly, “Ever heard the band XTC?”

Richard waved a hand back and forth. “Heard *of* them, but not much. They’re a little too poppy.”

“Since when has pop stopped you from liking a band?” Till teased. 

Richard rolled his eyes, but smiled. He did have a few guilty pleasures music-wise, and Till was well aware of them. Well, maybe more than a few.

Till continued back on his earlier statement, “XTC has one of my favorite explanations of atheism in their song “Dear God.” It took me awhile to understand the lyrics properly, but when the translation sunk in, it was like someone had finally put into words all my doubts and questions. I can’t force belief if the fundamental tenets are all things I can’t reconcile. I can’t believe in a benevolent, all-powerful God when there is an overwhelming amount of evidence that shows he either doesn’t care, or created this place and then left it to rot. If he made people in his image, it was a failed copy.”

Heavy, acrid bitterness coated Till’s accusatory words and made Richard feel uncomfortable. His interest or belief in god, or at least the supernatural, was based more on the inherent goodness in people, despite all the bad in the world. Till’s, it seemed, was based on the opposite: all the bad in the world showed that man did not have inherent goodness, and more showed God had abandoned his creation. The dismal reality of that life view sobered Richard.

“I don’t have an answer for suffering,” Richard admitted. “And I have no idea why bad things happen to good people. If there is a god, my only justification is that whatever he does has to be on a thinking level beyond humans, you know? I just can’t accept that we’re alone in the universe. I think there is good outside of this earth bubble, and I’ve seen enough to make me believe it pretty firmly. Maybe not god, but *something* good is out there and watches.”

Richard winced as he looked back over at Till. He waited for the caustic berating that usually followed his admission of believing in higher powers, especially from such a strong atheist.

But none followed. Till simply stared at him, the exact same way he did all the time.

A cough let Till know Richard was expecting some form of response. He seemed to yet again “wake up” and come back to the conversation.  
“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Till said.

“I didn’t think--”

“Yes you did. Your face was bracing for me to laugh at you. You should know better than that, Scholle.”

Richard made a disgusted noise at the terrible nickname, irked that Till still used it.  
“I’ve had it happen a lot, I guess,” he dismissed.

“You shouldn’t,” Till said, his eyes never leaving Richard’s. “Discourse is important. Letting people believe and practice things out of the ordinary is how the entirety of the modern world came to be. Galileo, Newton, Edison, all the greats weren’t the kind to “go with the flow” and shrug off their outrageous ideas. And the world is better for it."

The truth of Till's words nudged at Richard's insecurities. More than that, the acceptance he saw in Till's sincere eyes overwhelmed him. Richard desperately wanted this feeling to continue.  
He smiled.  
"Wanna get a drink?

\---

Till downed the last of his beer and clanked the empty bottle onto the bar. It was a quiet night at the local watering hole around the outskirts of the city, Richard couldn’t remember which. They hadn’t felt like staying in the main city, instead choosing to wander around until a hole-in-the-wall bar looked beckoning enough.

"I'm a poet," Till growled. "I don't have to be honest about shit."

Richard wiped a face with his hand as he grinned despite himself at their friendly disagreement. “I think you’re mistaking poets for fiction authors.”

“No, they both lie. *We* both lie.”

"I don't think you lie as much as you think you do," Richard insisted, downing a shot with a grimace. 

Till felt their talk slipping somewhere he didn't want it to go just yet, so he swiftly changed topics.  
"I bet you a dollar I can bring a woman back with me tonight."

Richard snorted. "Bring her where, to the bus? The bus where 6 people cram together to sleep because we don't have the money for hotels every night? Right."

Till just shrugged and grabbed another bottle, already scanning the bar for potential scores.

"Fine. I bet you *$5* you won't pick up a woman tonight."

A skeptical eyebrow raised at Richard's confident assertion.  
"And what makes you think you can guarantee that? Gonna sabotage me?"

"No," Richard said with a chuckle. "I just think you'll change your mind."

"Oh really?" Till was properly intrigued now. "And what makes you think that?"

With a smirk, Richard said, "I think I can maintain enough entertainment for you for the rest of the night.”

Till’s mind blanked for a moment. He needed to be careful. He was getting tipsy, and apparently inferring things from Richard’s also-inebriated conversation that he shouldn’t.  
“I doubt it. Now, look at the blonde over there. I bet if I walk over and stumble over my English like I always do, she’ll start fawning. Watch--”

His example was cut short as Richard grabbed his arm and protested.  
“Not fair. You have to give me a chance to be entertaining first.”

The man beamed up at Till, and Till felt a little warmer at the sight. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his caution lowered slightly. He didn’t mind letting this play out.  
“Go ahead, then,” he said with a smile toying at his lips.

“Uh, well, what if I brought up an incredibly interesting topic of conversation?”

Till pursed his lips indulgently. “I’m still waiting, little bringer of entertainment.”

Richard’s brow furrowed in thought, and Till patiently watched the drunk man struggle for a moment. This was already more interesting than trying to bang someone.

“I, um… shit, this is actually harder than I thought.”

Till laughed outright then, a genuine belly laugh that Richard apparently found contagious, as he joined in immediately.

“Well, you probably made me laugh more than a random woman would, so you get a point there.”

Richard’s eyes shone past his unkempt hair and his mouth was wide open in a huge smile. Till loved to see it.  
“I won, then,” Richard said. “Another round to celebrate?”

Till rolled his eyes, but considered the offer.  
“No, I think I’ve had enough for now. And I know you have,” he added, poking Richard in the ribs.

The man giggled and shied away from the tickling touch. “Not fair. I’m an adult. I can handle myself fine.”

With that, Richard tried to get up from the bar stool, but stumbled and was only saved from face-planting by Till’s firm grip on his bicep.

“Come on, adult. Let’s get you back,” Till said, hopping down from his own stool and paying for their drinks before they left the bar.

Richard protested weakly, but it was refreshing to “rescue” someone other than Flake from a bar, Till thought. Flake was notorious for destroying things and being a downright nasty drunk. Richard on the other hand had always been much cheerier, peppy and snuggly drunk, though the snuggling had hard limits. For some reason, those limits seemed to be less… well, just *less* now, and Till couldn’t tell whether it was the alcohol or a change of heart from his band mate.

Whatever it was, Till welcomed it, as back in the bus, his back pressed to the wall behind him; and his mouth pressed to Richard’s mouth in front of him. 

He rumbled and moved his hands to Richard’s hair, tangling them as he deepened the kiss. Richard tasted of cigarettes and booze, exactly how Till had pictured it. The taste wasn’t his favorite, but he made an exception for this one. Richard was special.

Just how special, though, Till had no idea.

For now, he playfully thumbed Richard's earring before sliding his hands down, relishing the feel of the other man's body beneath them. He was used to Richard’s hands on *him,* as during their stage shows when he pressed himself to Richard’s side like a dog; it was so different being the one doing the handling.

Richard’s breath came in ragged gulps of air as he tried to kiss Till with everything he had. If he had to guess, Till supposed Richard had known of his interest for a while, and clearly returned it to some degree, judging by the intensity with which Richard went after him. He’d just been overly shy before, most likely. Till had never seen him naked for more than a few split seconds. He seemed very sensitive about his body.

That was okay. Till liked shy. He liked gently breaking down the shyness until the other person was open for him, so they, and he, could feel safe again.

As soon as Till’s hands moved down to Richard’s pants, the shorter man stopped him with a grunt. Richard looked up at him with huge eyes and said bluntly, “Let me blow you.”

Till’s answer stuck itself up in his throat and went no further. He just nodded, and Richard immediately dropped to his knees. Till was barely able to unbutton his own pants before Richard tore them down, and without any warning, started aggressively sucking Till off.

He flung a hand out to brace himself against the bus wall as Richard worked. Could someone suck the very breath out of your body through your dick? It felt like it.

The door of the bus opening alerted Till to someone getting back to the formerly-empty bus. Without turning around, Till held Richard tightly to his crotch with his free hand and then shouted, “Get the *fuck* out!”

The door quickly slammed shut. Probably Flake. Paul would have argued, Oli would have quietly shut the door, and Schneider would have laughed.

Till’s lower back arched, and both his hands joined again in Richard’s hair as he finished. It wasn’t an explosion or a scene full of fireworks like the movies, but his infatuation with Richard skyrocketed. Till knew it was partly dopamine or whatever the fuck the happy brain chemical was called, but he also knew it went much, much deeper than that.

And now, it was his chance to return the favor. Though it was obviously still pleasant, Richard was a bit sloppy and new to the world of oral, it seemed. Till would just have to show him how it was done.  
“You’re up,” Till said lowly, pulling Richard to his feet and immediately trying to take his bandmate’s pants off.

“No!”  
Richard shoved him away abruptly.

“What?”

“I don’t-- I don’t like that,” he said in a rush, glancing away.

“Do you want to fuck?” Till asked, trying to soothe him. “I don’t have to go down on you. What do you like?”

Richard’s anxiety and skittishness seemed to double, and his hands began trembling. “No-- nothing, I don’t like it. I’m sorry.”

With that, Richard backed away and fled the bus, slamming the door on his way out.

The bang of the door echoed in Till’s shocked and confused mind, and he was left alone with his softening dick still wet and his pants down around his ankles. 

What on earth had he done wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an AU, as will be seen in future chapters. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
